


Into Reach

by stardropdream



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Ten times Victor knelt in front of Yuuri.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr with the prompt, "Victor on his knees in front of Yuuri."   
> I wasn't sure if the anon wanted it in a sex way or a fluffy way, so I kind of went with both.

**i.**

“Yuuri,” Victor says, kneeling in front of him right there on the tatami mat, hand lifting to touch his chin, to tip Yuuri’s head up. “Let’s build some trust in our relationship.” 

_Tell me everything about you—_

_Tell me—_

Victor, calling out, “Why are you running away?” 

 

**ii.**

“Yuuri, do you know why I decided to be your coach?” Victor asks, kneeling on the edge of the hot springs, cupping Yuuri’s hands in his. Yuuri stares at him and shakes his head, just barely, the smallest breath of a head shake. His hands feel weighted in Victor’s. But Victor squeezes his hands. “Because of the music. The music you create with your body.” 

Yuuri doesn’t understand, but Victor moves like fluid, like breathless air, like music itself – pulls Yuuri up from the water, his hands on him. 

 

**iii.**

Makkachin trots back towards Yuuri and Victor, the Hasetsu beach windswept and warm in the early summer breeze. Victor laughs and squats down, arms open to welcome his dog, already cooing happily in Russian, lolling words in a voice tinted with joy. Yuuri doesn’t need to understand Russian to understand Victor’s smile, his laugh of delight when Makkachin launches himself into Victor’s waiting arms, dropping the drool-covered stick in favor of licking at Victor’s face. 

Victor laughs, hands scratching through Makkachin’s fur, petting him while also plucking out beach detritus that’s managed to get woven into Makkachin’s curling fur. A few stray sticks or flecks of seaweed, even a small piece of nondescript shell. 

Yuuri’s expression softens watching them and he kneels down, too, patting Makkachin on the back and stroking down to the base of his wagging tail. He’s reminded so fully of Vicchan for a moment that it actually aches, a heavy weight in his chest. 

“Yuuri’s turn!” Victor chirps, and waves the stick towards Yuuri. It’s sticky with dog saliva and salt water when Yuuri grasps it but he laughs at the way Makkachin swivels his head away from accosting Victor’s face, looking at Yuuri with pleading dog eyes. 

Yuuri draws his arm back and then throws the stick as far as he can manage. It goes soaring, landing a short way’s away near the water’s edge and Makkachin is already on his feet and running after it, leaving both Yuuri and Victor to watch him go, laughing. 

Victor shifts beside him, settling back to sit down rather than kneel and watches Makkachin bound across the wet sand towards the stick. 

“I’m glad he’s so happy here,” Victor says, expression delighted and open, eyes shining in the Hasetsu summer sun. 

Yuuri looks down at Victor’s profile, the softness in his eyes, the way the wind pushes back his hair. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. He slowly moves to sit down beside him, close enough their hands almost touch. “Me too.” 

 

**iv.**

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps out as he falls to his knees in front of Yuuri, reaching out to cup his hips. “Let me show you my love.” 

Yuuri’s mouth feels helplessly dry but all he can do is nod his head – Victor fumbles at his pants for a moment and Yuuri shudders a little. Victor looks desperate. But. Yuuri grows too embarrassed and drops to his knees, too, wrenching his body away from Victor’s hands. He cups Victor’s cheeks and kisses him instead, swallowing around Victor’s startled, pleased gasp. 

 

**v.**

Victor eases Yuuri’s skate off and Yuuri hisses out in pain, hands clenching tight around the bench’s edge. 

Victor frowns once it’s off and he’s peeled back the sock. Yuuri’s in too much pain to feel any sort of embarrassment about whether his feet smell or if the bruises on his foot and ankles are unpleasant to look at, or even how knobby and strange his legs must look after years of hard landings and skating. His ankle is definitely swelling up, and the cold air of Ice Castle does nothing to relieve it. 

He tries to flex his toes when Victor asks him and he flinches instead, hissing out. Victor’s hands are gentle on Yuuri’s ankle as he sits in front of him, on his knees, Yuuri’s foot balanced against his thighs. He moves his thumb to the arch of Yuuri’s foot and presses slightly. Turns his ankle despite Yuuri’s cry of discomfort, his movements patient but precise, observing. 

“It’s not broken,” Victor finally settles on. “Only sprained, I think.” 

Yuuri feels a flood of relief beneath the haze of pain and his shoulders slump forward and he ducks his head, the embarrassment now catching up on him. To fall over something as simple as a toe loop, twisting his ankle up and sprawling hard across the ice. Embarrassing. He should be better than this. 

Victor lifts himself up onto his knees and reaches out, touching Yuuri’s face, brushing the hair from his forehead, observing the bruise starting to form from Yuuri’s hard fall. 

“This, though…” Victor begins with a frown. A concussion is a concern, Yuuri knows, although he feels fine. But it’s hard to feel much beyond the pain of his sprained ankle. At least it is only sprained, though, and not broken. He doesn’t want to think about what it would mean, to get a serious injury at this stage. 

Victor’s hand slides gently through Yuuri’s hair, traces at his jaw, then drops back down to his foot, lifting it carefully. His hand slides over Yuuri’s calf, his heel, up over his shin – checking for any other complications, but also just touching Yuuri. Yuuri shivers a little and not because of the cold. He grips tighter at the bench. 

Ice skating is merciless. They both know this. It demands their bodies, their time – demands grace and jumps that fly them through the air, only to land hard and unforgiving, hard enough to break bones if necessary. That sacrifice is evidenced in Yuuri’s legs, his knees, his feet. He knows it’s similar for Victor, too. Still, he feels exposed, more than he thought possible, having Victor’s hands on him like this. 

“Um,” he whispers, his cheeks pink. 

“We’ll make sure a doctor checks you over, too,” Victor decides, his voice lacking its lilting musicality – means that Yuuri can’t argue. Victor ducks his head, frowning down at Yuuri’s ankle. 

Yuuri sits in silence for a moment, sees the worry etching itself into Victor’s face. Then he reaches out and presses his finger against the crown of Victor’s head, where his hair is beginning to thin. He twists his finger, gently, almost playful. 

He says, “I’ll be alright, Victor.”

 

**vi.**

“I want it to feel good for you, Yuuri,” Victor says, kneeling above him, straddling him, the bottle of lube clenched tight in one of Yuuri’s hands to warm it up. Yuuri lies sprawled beneath him on the bed, naked and hard and flushed – and feeling breathless with the thought of being inside Victor. 

Desperate for something to give his hands to do, he reaches out and curls his fingers into Victor’s hair. Victor looks down at him, expression sunny and warm and desperately handsome in a way that’s almost intimidating. No man should look so handsome while discussing how to get fucked, Yuuri thinks. 

Victor says he wants it to be good for Yuuri, as if he’s somehow convinced himself that it could be _not_ good for Yuuri, as if it is not enough that Victor should want him at all. They’ve only done this together a few times now, slow, Victor always waiting for Yuuri to come to him – and yet somehow it’s still a wonder to Yuuri that Victor could worry about this. 

Still, Yuuri’s hands on him are firm but gentle, curling into his hair and tugging him closer. He guides Victor down and Victor goes willingly – kissing him soft and sweet, a direct counterpoint to the heat of their bodies, Yuuri already hard with Victor’s hand _right there_ at his hip, Victor already looking wrecked just from Yuuri’s hands on him earlier, stroking him to a hasty orgasm. 

“Well,” Yuuri starts once they part for breath, Victor staying close – his forehead pressed to Yuuri’s. Yuuri bites his lip, thinking. Then he powers through it. “What was it like – with all the people you’ve been with before? What did they do that you liked?”

Victor is quiet above him, eyes blinking open to look at him. Being in such a direct gaze is intimidating in itself, with Victor so close, his eyes so strangely blue. Victor looks puzzled. 

Yuuri leans up and kisses him, somewhat stubbornly, a quick spike of jealousy coursing through him. Ridiculous, since he was the one to bring it up! And yet – he bites at Victor’s lip and tugs, pulls him down closer and swallows Victor’s soft groan. 

“I can do better,” Yuuri tells him, staring into his eyes. “Tell me. I’ll do better.” 

Victor then laughs, a soft and breathless thing – small and hitching and so beautiful that Yuuri aches with it, can’t even remember to be scared that Victor is laughing at him. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor tells him, kneeling above him, hands sliding down Yuuri’s chest, their foreheads pressed together. His expression gentle and open and so unbearably warm when he says, “Who else matters now but you?” 

Yuuri frowns and looks at him. Lets Victor draw away enough to take the lube from Yuuri’s hand and pop the cap, cupping Yuuri’s hand and slicking his fingers up for him, then guiding Yuuri’s back to show him what to do, where to rest his hands. Yuuri doesn’t need the direction, really, but he appreciates the guidance – locks eyes with Victor and holds them taut as they move together. 

“I’m really not – ah,” Victor gasps out as Yuuri presses a finger inside of him, and both of them are distracted for a moment as they look at each other in a quiet kind of wonder before Yuuri starts moving his hand and Victor ducks his head, keening, his back arching as he rocks back against Yuuri’s hand. He manages, gasping, “I’m really not as experienced as Yuuri’s imagining me to be.” 

He shivers above Yuuri, rocking down to meet him – then eventually rocking down to meet his cock, riding Yuuri, hands on Yuuri. He moans out, open-mouthed, hair in his eyes. And Yuuri has never seen anyone as unspeakably beautiful as Victor. 

 

**vii.**

Victor in Russia, kneeling in front of Yuuri to fix his skates – looking up at him with a smile. 

Victor in Russia, kneeling in front of Yuuri at the kiss and cry – kissing his skate. 

 

**viii.**

Later that night, Victor ducking his head to swallow down around Yuuri’s cock, not pulling back even when Yuuri warns him, letting Yuuri yank hard on his hair as he comes in his mouth. Swallowing him down with a pleased moan. 

 

**ix.**

Victor, kneeling on the floor, his arms wrapped tight around Yuuri’s waist, head in his lap. Yuuri pets his fingers through his hair, sitting at the edge of the bed – his movements slow and gentle, soothing. 

“You are a cruel man, Yuuri,” Victor whispers, although there is no bite to his words now. Not like the night before, Victor crying in front of him. 

Yuuri drags his fingers through his hair softly. He doesn’t deny it, only hums out in vague knowledge and apology. “I know.” 

Victor turns his head and looks up at him, kisses his stomach. He doesn’t kiss the silver medal hanging around Yuuri’s neck, already promised he wouldn’t kiss it unless it’s gold – but he does raise himself up onto his knees so he can kiss Yuuri properly. Yuuri cradles his head in his hands, fingers braided through his hair, holding him close – gentle. Someone so precious. 

 

**x.**

Victor takes Yuuri’s hand before he’s due to go out to skate the exhibition skate. He smiles at him and kisses Yuuri’s ring, gently. 

“I’ll be with you soon,” he tells Yuuri and Yuuri never doubted it, and just nods. 

Victor takes a knee as he unties his skates afterwards and Yuuri leans against the blocks, smiling and helpless with happiness, buzzing with the adrenaline of being lifted and spun and in Victor’s arms out on the ice. That they’re here. That they’re here – together. Staying on the ice after the music faded, cupping Victor’s cheeks and kissing him – lingering out there. 

He reaches out, threads his fingers through Victor’s hair and pets through it. Victor chuckles, warm and overbright, and looks up at him. His eyes are so soft in the dim light, warm and focused only on Yuuri. 

He catches Yuuri’s hand and kisses his ring again, looking up at him. 

“You’re amazing,” Victor says and Yuuri laughs because he was about to say the same thing.


End file.
